Reunited(3)

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you’ll have to live with that.”

“Mr. Phillips, I’m quite capable of living with that.” Kathryn stood and turned to walk out the door, but Mr. Phillips’s voice stopped her cold.

“Kathryn. Please.”





Chapter Two


His strong legs looked exactly the same.

Kathryn’s pulse raced, but she steadied herself as she led Maya toward the Pee Wee soccer field. Brett stood with his back to them, talking to another parent. He was wearing sports shorts and a T-shirt, coach fare. His jet-black hair still fell to his collar in unruly waves.

Her stomach knotted. How was she going to get through this?

She looked down at her adorable daughter, so cute in her shin guards and cleats.

Maya. That’s how she would get through this. For Maya.

Once she was within speaking distance, she cleared her throat. “Mr. Falcone?”

He turned, and Kathryn melted into a puddle. Age had been kind to the Italian Stallion. Tiny streaks of silver threaded through the silky hair at his temples. Dark stubble graced his jaw line. His dark brown eyes still appeared black, and the lashes were still long and thick. Those lips—once firm and supple upon her own—were still red, full, and gorgeous.

And his athlete’s body? Oh yeah, there it was. She remembered as though it were yesterday instead of twenty years ago. That flat belly, those strong virile arms, the corded neck, the hard muscled chest.

He looked at her, cocked his head, as though he were trying to place her.

She held out her hand, willing it not to tremble. “I’m Kathryn Abbott, and this is Maya.”

His gaze pierced hers and she knew the second recognition hit.

“I’ll be damned. Kathryn Zurakowsky.”

She smiled, her lips quivering. “Abbott now. How are you, Brett?”

“Can’t complain. You?”

She nodded. “Life’s been good. So how did you end up coaching?”

“My daughter’s playing. That’s her, with the dark hair.” He motioned to a little girl kicking a soccer ball in short kicks across the field.

Kathryn nodded. She raked her gaze over his left hand that hung at his side. No wedding band. But he had a daughter on this team, so he must be married. He probably just took off his ring to play soccer. Made perfect sense.

“So this is Maya, huh?” Brett knelt down. “Hi Maya, I’m Coach Brett.”

“Hello,” Maya said shyly.

“I know your mommy from a long time ago.”

“When she was little like me?”

“Not quite that long ago.” Brett laughed. “Are you excited to play soccer?”

“Oh yeah!” Maya clapped her hands together.

“I’m hoping she got her father’s athletic talent,” Kathryn said. “As you’ll recall, I don’t have any.”

Brett ignored her comment. “You ready to start kicking a ball, Maya?”

“Sure!”

“Okay then.” He took her hand. “Mommy’ll stay here and I’ll take you to meet the rest of the girls on the team.”

Kathryn nodded and smiled. “Go ahead, Maya. I’ll be right here reading my book while you have your practice.”

Kathryn set up her folding chair, sat down, and opened her romance novel. After reading the same paragraph five times, she still had no idea what it said.

She looked up. Brett had set up orange cones and was showing the six little girls how to kick the ball around the cones. His demeanor was kind, paternal. Kathryn couldn’t imagine Danny doing something like this. He’d be too authoritative and demanding. Danny was a gifted athlete, or had been, when he was younger, but Kathryn doubted he was coaching material. At least not for this age.

Brett had no doubt married his high school sweetheart, Michelle Bates. That had been his plan at the end of high school anyway, whether or not the scholarship came through. Bubbly, blonde Michelle was probably the mother of the little dark-haired beauty on the field. Or maybe Brett had divorced Michelle and married again. For him to have a child so young, that was definitely a possibility. Or maybe he and Michelle hadn’t worked out and he’d only married more recently, like Kathryn had.

Whatever the case, she couldn’t sit here ogling him for another fifteen minutes. Thank goodness soccer practice for four-year-olds only lasted half an hour.

She pretended to read her book for the remainder of practice. Finally, Brett brought the girls together in a circle and made them join hands in the middle. “Blue thunder on three,” he said. “One, two three.”

“Blue thunder!” a chorus of happy little girl voices cheered.

Maya ran to Kathryn.

“Did you have fun, sweetie?”

“Oh, yeah, it was tons of fun. I love to kick the ball!”

“Then you’re in the right sport.” Kathryn laughed as she folded up her chair and stuffed it in its bag. She wanted to be well on her way before Brett was done talking to the pretty young woman hanging on his every word. Must be another parent. A very young and attractive parent. Of course she’d be young. Most parents with children Maya’s age were in their twenties, not thirty-eight like Kathryn. And Brett, for that matter.

She slung the chair over her shoulder. “Grab your ball, Maya.”